Boys Don't Cry
by Koala75
Summary: A series of slash one-shots for Kames, Kogan, Kenlos, Jagan, Jarlos, and Cargan. Rating and genres are subject to change.
1. Like Toy Soldiers

**A/N: Boys Don't Cry is basically all the one-shots (some may be two-shots or a little higher) I come up with for all the slash ships. I'll tell you in the author's note what ship it'll be, and if you wanna know what ship I have in mind next, go ahead and ask in a review. Sometimes there will be sex, sometimes there won't. The rating will change, as will the genre each time I update. This first fic is Kames, and I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

><p>Gray clouds slowly drifted across the sky, signifying another bleak day. Rain had fallen the previous night, and the cold mud sticking to everyone's feet made them want to wail. For all the work the day held for them, having their feet going numb would do no good. If they were unable to perform the tasks given to them, they would be killed. As if the weather wanted to enhance these fears, icy, merciless winds blew against the rows of people, and for some, it was almost too much for their fragile bodies to handle. They had been at the camp longer than anyone else, and whether surviving for so long was a miracle or a curse, no one could really say.<p>

Soldiers marched down the lines, checking off numbers on their lists as they counted each person present. As they did so, everyone in the camp could hear the roaring sound of a train approaching. For weeks there had been no sign of it, and now, with no warning, the train was in sight. Dark smoke puffed out overhead, and even the soldiers paused to look. As the train grew closer, the ground tremored. The soldiers held up their hands, signifying for the people in line to stay put. Hearing the whistle of the train, and seeing it slowing to a stop, the soldiers ran towards the railcars, shouting commands as the train finally did stop. The doors were pulled open, and dozens of people dressed in gray, rag-like sacks were yanked down, shoved towards the entrance of the camp.

James Diamond stood in the second row of people, and had to avert his eyes as the newcomers were sorted. Only when he was certain that the soldiers were almost done did he look back. From his distance, he could faintly see what the new prisoners wore, and he was taken aback when he saw the pink triangles marking most of the men. He had only seen so many symbols, and managed to learn what most of them meant, but he had yet to see pink triangles. Blinking a few times, he watched as the soldiers barked orders to a group of children and seniors, herding them down a dirt path to the building at the edge of the camp. James knew where that path led, and closed his eyes when he realized the fate of the children and elders.

"Metzger!" a soldier called, startling James. He peered over his shoulder, seeing the man who had shouted running in his direction. James' eyes followed the soldier, watching as he ran to the man taking roll. They exchanged whispers that he couldn't decipher, and as they nodded in understanding to each other, the one called Metzger eyed everyone still standing in line. He approached the section farthest from James, shouting directions for them to follow. Metzger led them forward, taking them down a second dirt path.

James knew where that path led as well. It was no better than the first one. The people being led away were never going to come back.

"Line up!" another man yelled, and James turned his head to see the new prisoners being organized in the now empty space. He observed each one of them, paying close attention to how their clothes hung off their bodies. Their skin was pale, and dirty, much like everyone else's. James felt his bottom lip quiver, and he tore his eyes away from everyone, staring down at his own hands. There was dirt under his nails, some of which were chipped. One was completely gone. His bony fingers were almost gray, and James was ashamed to see them. He was grateful that the camp had no mirrors for him, because he knew he would detest what he saw. For such a large part of his life, he prided himself with how magnificent his body looked. He worked hard to have it look so perfect, and to see it all gone was too much. Even his hair, which he had cared for so earnestly, was chopped off so quickly.

James had already been separated from his mother, and watched his father get beaten to death. He had absolutely nothing now. With a blink of an eye, everything he had known was gone.

Only a year ago, James and his parents had been discovered hiding in the house of a German family. The family had been friends to James' parents, and he knew nothing of their fate after being dragged away by Nazi soldiers. After being captured, he was shoved onto a train like a wild animal, and taken to his first camp. It was there that his nice clothes were taken, and he was forced to wear rags. His hair was sloppily cut off, and he was branded with a number. He had long since forgotten the name of the first camp, because after only three months, he was transferred to a new one with his father. His mother remained behind. In his second camp, Stutthof, James witnessed two German soldiers select his father for one of their sick games, which resulted in him being beaten until he was past the point of surviving. James had winced each time he heard a bone in his fathers' body crack. After about eight months there, James was transferred to his current camp: Flossenburg. He had been there for two weeks, and found there was nothing better or worse about the camp.

"Listen up!" the menacing voice shouting pulled James from his horrific memories. A burly soldier approached James' section, and smirked at the sight of cowering people. "You will work on the railroads today…" The man shouted commands, all of which James had heard before. He would be making train tracks that led nowhere. All the work he ever did was useless, but he knew better to complain. Swallowing any remark his nature wanted him to say, James remained silent, walking with his group when the soldier beckoned for them to follow.

The bitter winds continued to sting James' exposed skin, but the mud on his feet was forgotten. He had almost completely grown accustomed to the harsh conditions, and felt immune to most of the weather. However, he was only human. The shoves and punches from soldiers still crippled him. Sighing, James rubbed his arms to create the slightest bit of warmth, staggering towards his working post. They were led to a fresh part of the land, which they would have to dig out enough room for the tracks. For however long the soldiers decided to keep them at this station, James' section would be digging, and eventually laying out the tracks.

James was handed a shovel, and without hesitation, he began digging. The metal was cold against his hands, but he quickly became used to it, and dug out of the earth as fast as he could. He liked to pretend it was nothing - that working so hard didn't put strain on his arms. His muscle was gone, but he imagined it wasn't. Work like this was supposed to be easy for him.

Several feet away, James heard another soldier commanding people to move. He peeked up in the direction of the noise, and saw the new prisoners being led his way. Focusing on his work again, James shoveled away at the dirt. The newcomers were stationed feet away from him, each person being placed on the opposite side of the tracks. They were slowly being spread out, and soon enough, James felt someone standing across from him. He was curious, but refused to look up. Instead, he continued to dig.

"Hello."

The calm, smooth voice took James by surprise. He blinked, his eyes darting up to see the young man across from him. The eyes staring back at him were a bright, lively green. They were filled with a hopefulness James wasn't used to. Curious of the stranger now, James paused for only an instant, taking in the appearance of the man. He was young - perhaps as young as James - and what was left of his hair was tousled, and blonde. There was a black ring around his left eye, which seemed swollen; obviously he had been hit by a soldier. His lip was split, and there was a large cut on his cheek. He wasn't as filthy as the other prisoners, and his body appeared to be relatively nourished.

"Hi." James responded curtly, resuming his work as to remain unnoticed by the soldiers. He continued to dig in silence, trying his best to ignore the ache already growing in his arms. It angered him how weak he was, and how much of a ghost he had become in contrast to his former self. The Nazi soldiers had stripped him of everything he was proud of, and made him out to feel like dirt. Clenching his teeth, James stabbed into the ground with his shovel, digging more aggressively.

"I'm Kendall." the man continued. James could just hear the smile, but he refused to look up. He could see the shovel across from his was digging at a more leisurely pace, almost as if the stranger didn't realize he was getting close to earning himself a beating. Should he be caught by a soldier, he'd either be ordered to stop talking and work harder, or simply be killed. When James showed no sign of answering, Kendall remained silent.

For the next few hours, James worked diligently, once or twice catching Kendall staring. Whenever their eyes met, Kendall would give a small smile, which James didn't return. He couldn't comprehend why this stranger would be so pleasant. They were all poorly clothed in a freezing camp, and he appeared to be beaten. Was he one of the mentally ill prisoners? James didn't believe the soldiers would keep someone insane alive, but he didn't know what else to think. Finally, the shrill whistle that signified a break echoed throughout the camp. James dropped his shovel, straightening up as the soldiers supervising them marched the group back to the camp.

There had been no breakfast that day, so James knew it was time for lunch - a term that he learned to use very loosely. The one mean served each day at the camp consisted of a stale slice of wheat bread, and a bowl of what might've once been cabbage soup. Occasionally there would be an old potato to share, but those were lucky days. James waited somewhat impatiently, feeling the rumble in his empty stomach. He didn't dare look down, knowing he would only be disgusted with the body he saw. It haunted him every waking moment; his body was no longer sculpted perfection, but rather, a fragile skeleton with a taut layer of pale, dirty skin.

Sighing, James approached the pots of soup, and took the bowl thrusted in his direction. The stale slice of bread floated at the top of his bowl, and he batted away the bugs that tried flying around it. He walked outside into the chilly air, stopping when he reached an isolated corner. He leaned against the wall of a cabin, earnestly biting into the hard bread. There was no flavor, which James had gotten used to months ago. His eyes squeezed shut, and he ignored the stench of the soup as he drank from the bowl, devouring every last drop.

"You're hungry." Kendall's voice startled James, and almost made him drop his bowl. The blonde was standing a few feet across from James, his green eyes observing everything in front of him. Seeing that James was far from amused at the comment, Kendall continued. "It's nice to see you again, James." Hearing his name being used, James' eyes widened. He stared at Kendall, utterly confused.

"How did you-"

"We went to school together, in Holland," Kendall interrupted James, his smile never disappearing. "I didn't expect to find you…" The answer left James stunned. He racked his brain for a memory, thinking back to the times where he didn't have to live with a brand on his clothing. Sifting through all the school memories he had, James finally recognized who the man in front of him was. They had never really spoken, but James had seen him awarded for different achievements on several occasions.

"Kendall Knight." James breathed, pleasantly surprised by the reunion. It wasn't a close friend, but it was someone, and that was better than being alone. Kendall's smile grew when James was able to remember him, and he closed the distance between them, taking the space beside James. He clutched the bowl in his hands, eyeing the already empty dish his friend held.

"Here," Kendall offered, holding out his bowl for James to take. He didn't see a problem giving the food away, but James stared at him as if he were crazy. "Take it. I can miss a meal." His insisting was new to James, but the low growl in his stomach made him reach out and take the food. Again, he drank to the last drop, and chewed through the hard bread.

James could feel Kendall's eyes on him, but chose to ignore it as he finished off the food. There was shame in his heart when he realized Kendall was seeing him in such an undignified manner, but the camp gave him no other choice. He was an animal there. No, he was lower than an animal; lower than scum, even. Shoving the thoughts away, he looked back up at Kendall, curiosities filling his mind. However, before he was able to ask anything, the shrill whistle echoed over the camp, and prisoners began scrambling to the empty lot where they would be counted.

Turning away, James aimed to head to his normal post in his section. Before he wheeled around completely though, he saw Kendall's ID number. It had just been engraved on him today, and he saw the dried blood that lined thinly around the punctures. Faltering for only a moment, James stole a quick peek at his own arm, distinctly remembering the day he was carved with his number. He could feel the burning sting even now, and he wondered how Kendall had taken to it. Knowing it wasn't the time for questions, he made his way to his spot in line, waiting to be accounted for.

James was led back to his work post, and though he still refused to talk, he did return a few of Kendall's smiles.

* * *

><p><strong>Harsh<strong>, frozen winds and the shrieking whistles awoke everyone in the camp. Soldiers were running through the cabins wildly, rounding up the prisoners.

"_Why are you here? It doesn't make sense," James observed, biting into his bread. He and Kendall stood at their secluded spot near the cabins, finishing their lunch before the next whistle blew. The guards ignored them for the most part, but the boys were silent when one was near anyway. James swallowed his food, then continued. "You're not crazy, and you're not Jewish. What's the pink triangle for? Are you one of the rebels? I've heard about them being brought to camps, but I haven't seen any yet." His curiosity changed his typically blank expression, and Kendall didn't fail to notice. He had to wonder what changed James the most - being in the camp for so long, or actually allowing how he felt to show. From what he remembered, James kept his poker face on at all hours of the day._

"_I guess you can say I was a rebel," Kendall responded, pausing as he recalled what landed him in Flossenburg. He watched as James kept his eyes on him, waiting for his story. Only then did it become evident what was really different about James Diamond. He was lonely. Kendall wasn't surprised, but at the same time, he was. Although James had clearly suffered in the camps, from what Kendall had seen on his first day, James kept himself numb. He stuck to routine, and remained invisible - something quite out of character for the attention-loving boy. Seeing it so obvious in his eyes was what threw Kendall off. He expected since James now wasn't alone, he would find some way to bring out his personality. He'd pretend he was fine and perfect, not reveal how crippled and scared he was. "I was arrested in Denmark when the Nazis raided my friends' house. It was during one of our meetings. They found everything - our plans to burn down synagogues, lists of people we were supposed to smuggle to America… Everything. So some of us ran, and some of us were captured. I mouthed off to one of the soldiers before they sent me to the trains, and I earned myself a few hits." Kendall chuckled at the memory, and James stared at the healing cut on the blonde's lip._

"_So that's why you had a black eye…" he realized, watching as Kendall grimaced after swallowing a spoonful of his soup. Unable to stop himself, James chuckled. "You'll get used to it. After a while, it'll be the most delicious thing in the world." Scoffing, Kendall emptied his bowl into James', once again supplying the brunette with more food than he was used to. He gave a single nod - his personal form of thanks. Once again, he ate, savoring the feel of almost being full and satisfied._

"_A meat and potatoes are the most delicious things in the world, James." Kendall corrected his friend, smirking. James gave his shoulder a push, then finished eating._

**Even** when the whistles began to break, there were still noises loud enough to keep everyone in camp awake. Though the lights were flashing around, and the prisoners watched as people scrambled around like cockroaches, no one knew what to do. There were gunshots, and dozens of prisoners fell.

_Two months in Flossenburg taught Kendall what James had known for a long time, one lesson being to appreciate food. It only took a few weeks for Kendall to stop giving his food away and start eating. He apologized to James for taking the extra meal away so suddenly, but James understood. It was only a matter of time, and James had been expecting it. Eating was the least of their worries, as bizarre as it sounded. Surviving was the main concern, and Kendall had a hard time keeping himself invisible. Having been one of the more extreme rebels, he was constantly tempted to talk back to the soldiers that monitored him. However, after hearing a mumbled comment, James begged Kendall to watch his mouth._

_In those few moments of genuine pleading, Kendall understood that James wasn't prepared to lose anyone else. Though they had only spent a short time together, a bond had formed. It was almost too easy to be real, which scared James. He couldn't live knowing someone else he cared for was dead, and as sudden as Kendall's arrival had been, it was something he was grateful for. He wasn't alone anymore, and he didn't have to be as long as they both survived. If James had done it for so long, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Kendall could do the same._

"_Hey Jamie?"_

_This week, the boys were grouped together, cleaning out the crematoriums in the camp. The guards on the tracks and in the mines were strict, but the ones monitoring them now seemed to be more interested in playing cards. Seeing this, Kendall saw no harm in occasional whispering._

"_Yeah?" James wiped out the ash residue from his eyes, fighting the urge to sneeze. His hands were raw from scrubbing the metal so hard, and only so much progress had been made. The work was still meaningless. Kendall could see that clearly, and it was a mystery to him why James would work so hard when nothing would come of it. He had to wonder if it was all that kept James going before he arrived._

"_Have you noticed anything strange around here?" Kendall finally asked, still thinking about the question as he said it. James paused, confused. He stared at Kendall, questioning him with his stare. He had a different idea of strange, and it quickly became obvious how much life outside of the camps had changed. Before James had been captured, people were being summoned away - to the camps he now knew were nothing like what the Jews were told. There had been rules and restrictions, but people could still live. According to Kendall, life was more strict. It wasn't as horrific as life in the camps, but soldiers were allowed to come into a house and raid through it if they wanted. Fear was widespread, and no one could escape it._

_To James, the soldiers and schedule of the camp seemed normal. However, Kendall saw something different. He was aware of the subtle changes, seeing as he had only been in the camp for two months. When he first arrived, people were killed for blinking. Everything was tight, and cruel. It wasn't just the guards watching them for the day - it was everyone. The grip on the prisoners had loosened just a little, and Kendall saw it._

"_What about it?" James questioned suspiciously, now hesitant. He wasn't sure what Kendall was going to say, but he had a feeling it was something he didn't want to hear. Swallowing thickly, James returned his attention to scrubbing away the ash and grime. Ignoring the ache in his wrist, he awaited what his friend had to say anxiously._

"_Well," Kendall began, his circles over a particularly filthy spot slowly coming to a stop. He bit his lip, still pondering the ideas that had formed. "If things get any more lax around here… We could get away. We could sneak through a fence or something. I've seen some that could be easy to cut, or break. I might have enough muscle left to-"_

"_Stop it!" James whispered angrily, throwing his rag down. Kendall immediately silenced, his eyes wide with shock. Never before had James shown an argumentative trait, and it threw off his friend. Kendall had assumed that James would be eager to escape. If anything, he expected to hear something along the lines of hesitation and fear - not anger. It puzzled him. James glared at Kendall before finally closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "You're not doing anything that could get us killed. We can wait this out, alright? I'm not going to get myself killed, and I won't let you do it either."_

_As much as Kendall wanted to argue against James, he didn't. There was something in his words that made Kendall stop and think yet again. He had heard something, but he couldn't place what it was - not until he caught James staring at him. They both instantly looked away, but Kendall was able to figure out what he heard in James' voice. It was a mixture of things. First, there was genuine worry. James was afraid for them both, and probably even more so for Kendall. Death horrified him. The second thing confused Kendall, but he could hear it now perfectly. Jealousy. Something bothered James enough to make him jealous of Kendall, and he didn't know what it was._

**Orders** were bellowed, and the prisoners that hadn't been shot all lined up. They were being told to follow all of the officers, or else they'd be left behind and killed. In the distance, tanks could be heard approaching. They were still a long way off, but they were arriving nonetheless.

_Two days ago, James tossed and turned as he tried to fall asleep. There was more room in his section of the bunks tonight, due to all of the people that had died over the past week. He wasn't sure if that was the reason for his restlessness or not. All he knew, was that he was having more difficulty sleeping than he'd ever had before. James wondered if there was guilt keeping him awake, but he couldn't be sure. When his neighboring prisoner had died, James stole his clothes. He couldn't continue wearing his when the lice made him so painfully itchy. Shaking off the thoughts, he tried to keep his eyes closed. However, the shouts he heard forced him to open his eyes again. He craned his neck to see what was going on, and immediately regretted it. Once the light grazed over the officers and their prisoner, James could feel his heart stop. They were taking Kendall somewhere._

_Every pain James had ever endured didn't quite compare to what he felt that night. He could remember leaving his mother behind, and hurting over not knowing if she was alive or dead. He could remember watching as his father was beaten to death, and desperately wanting to cry each time he saw the soldiers make him spit out a tooth or break a bone. What James couldn't recall, was feeling as lonely as he did then. Lying in the spacious wooden bunk, James was alone. He had no one. After breaking his rules and growing to care for Kendall, who was too good to be true to begin with, he was losing him. Being marched away in the middle of the night like he was sealed his fate._

_James almost didn't hurt at all after he accepted what he saw. It was as if his heart vanished the moment he looked away. Any feeling was stopped short, and pushed away before it could attack him. He curled up on his bunk, holding his knees to his chest and trembling. His legs were thin, and mostly just skin and bone. He used to have such beautiful legs, to go along with a beautiful body. That was gone, just like Kendall. Choking on his breath, James squeezed his eyes shut, feeling one tear escape and slide off of his face. He had done his waiting, and though he was graced with a friend to remedy his loneliness and fear, that friend was taken away just as quickly. James hated to admit it, but there seemed to be nothing to hope for._

"_You survived five months," James whimpered, his voice shaking. His volume was no louder than a hoarse whisper, almost undetectable to even his ears. "You did good, buddy…"_

**Marching** began as soon as the prisoners were gathered. There was no roll call, and none of the other usual procedures. The soldiers began leading the prisoners towards the gates, shooting whoever fell out of the group. They didn't seem to care if the prisoners were in their correct order. Brothers moved to be together, as did sisters, mothers and sons or daughters, husbands and wives, and friends.

"_You're… alive…" James breathed, his tired eyes suddenly wide and alert. Kendall had shaken him until he woke up, and James almost didn't believe what he was seeing. It had to be a dream. He had seen Kendall being dragged away by two soldiers! How was he not dead? Unable to ask these questions, James sobbed once, and threw himself against his friend. He clung to Kendall, afraid that if he didn't, the boy would disappear. "What happened? Wh-Why did you go?" His questions were struggled, and he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Kendall was still here. Everything felt real enough. The fabric of his clothes was rough and worn, his skins was cool, his hair was damp with cold sweat, and he smelled of dirt, alcohol, and smoke._

_Kendall's hands locked around James' arms, and he pulled away, his eyes darting around as he observed James' expression. His breathing was labored, and James could detect the alcohol in it. He didn't understand where Kendall had been, or what was going on. All he wanted were answers, and they seemed to be choking Kendall. There was a fresh black ring around his eyes, and dried blood was around his nose. His lip was split again, and his jaw was bruised._

"_There's a brothel set up for the soldiers," Kendall explained, shutting his eyes as he replayed the memory. James froze, almost knowing where the explanation was going. He looked over Kendall once more, seeing the pink triangle was ripped from his clothes, and his scrawny chest now had a symbol burned into it. The ugly, red flesh was seeping out droplets of blood, but Kendall seemed unaffected by it now. "They took me there, for their own sick games. All the women were taken after a while. They poured their drinks on me, blew smoke in my face… They're all hypocrites. Every last one of them." Kendall's sentences were a mystery to James, but he still listened. Though he was somewhat drunk, Kendall could recall perfectly what was done to him in the past two days. James shushed him, pulling an extra piece of clothing he had gathered over his friend to warm him._

"_Just calm down Kendall," he whispered, pushing the blonde hair back. The blonde fell weakly onto his side, lying on the uncomfortable bunk. He tousled his hair back into his face, and James ran a hand through his own hair, feeling a hope for happiness at how good of a start it had in growing back. "You don't have to tell me anything yet…" Tearing part of the clothing, James used the small piece to wipe the sweat from Kendall's forehead. He suddenly stopped though, feeling Kendall's hand on his wrist._

"_You have very pretty eyes," Kendall breathed, lifting his free hand to stroke the side of James' face. James didn't know how to respond. He knew he should've pulled away, and gotten as far from Kendall as possible. He now understood what the pink triangle on Kendall's clothes had represented. James gaped at the blonde, his eyes darting to his hand, which was still being held by Kendall._

"_You're gay." James stated, the realization not hitting him as hard as he first thought it would. He almost didn't care, which scared him. Being gay was a crime to the soldiers; it was worse than being a Jew. What would happen if he was Jewish and gay? Surviving would be impossible if the soldiers knew. Kendall had a chance because he was only gay, but what had happened? Why wasn't he killed by those soldiers? As if reading his mind, Kendall cleared his throat, and let go of James' hand._

"_They said if I was good, and turned straight, like a normal man, I could go." Kendall informed James, folding his hands over his chest and looking away. "Their women tried to seduce me, and force me to have sex. I didn't. I refused. So they locked me up in a separate cabin. The second night, they tried again. A woman gave me a blowjob, and I said I'd be straight, but I'd still fight once I got out. I wasn't going to let them win, and it only pissed them off." James' breath caught in his throat. He wanted to reach out and take Kendall's hand, but he couldn't make himself move. "They raped me. It's okay for them to do it - to release sexual tension or something… They're all hypocritical bastards. Said they'd let me go after they were done, and they spit on me-"_

_James stopped Kendall with a hug. He embraced his friend, holding on to him as tight as he could. Kendall was unsure of how to respond to the affection, but gradually eased into comfort, and held James against him. He was honestly scared of the reaction he might get, and seeing that James was still willing to care put him at peace. Neither of them wanted to be alone anymore._

"_You could've been freed. You could've gotten out," James murmured into Kendall's ear, fighting the sting in his eyes. His best friend was alive. Nothing else mattered to James. He wasn't alone, and that was the most important thing. He wasn't scared anymore. Kendall could hear the sadness in James' voice, and pushed himself up, meeting his friends' gaze._

"_I couldn't go knowing you were still here." Kendall replied, giving James all the explanation needed._

_The two boys remained silent, and after a short while, Kendall closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. James held his calloused hand, running his thumb over the rough skin. He didn't know what his feelings were, and he questioned his sexuality, but he knew what the consequences could be. Even so, he didn't seem to care. He wanted to hold Kendall's hand, and he was going to._

**As** the bitter wind blew against them, the soldiers and prisoners abandoned Flossenburg, walking in the direction of another camp. American troops were approaching, and the soldiers that remained behind were supposed to burn the bodies and hide what had occurred in the camp.

_Coughing violently, James shivered underneath the thin sheet wrapped around his body. His shoulders and arms were exposed to the air, and he felt like throwing up. Kendall watched in agony as James suffered, and though he wanted to hold his friend and keep him warm, James insisted he didn't. One of them being sick was back enough. Typhus had broken out in the camp, and the boys seemed alright, until James developed a cough._

"_You're gonna be alright, Jamie… I promise." Kendall assured the frail brunette, stroking his hair. He came to understand why James had been jealous all those months ago. Kendall had muscle, whereas James was weak. The camp had broken him - shattered who he was, and kicked around the pieces. Kendall pitied him, until he realized that James wanted no such thing. He wanted company, and he wanted to be free. He wanted things to go back to normal, and he wanted to stop being afraid. "Just hang on a little while longer, okay? The soldiers know something's coming. We're gonna be free soon. I promise, okay? Just stay with me…"_

_Kendall had been in the camp for eleven months, and James was going on two years. If they had survived that long, they could stick it out just a little longer. There had been talk of other camps being liberated, and though the prisoners weren't supposed to know, word had gotten out. James had his hope somewhat restored, and Kendall tried to match it, even with James growing more and more sick._

"_I'll steal you some new clothes, okay? Just stay with me…" Kendall breathed, wanting to weep. James had abandoned his clothes yet again because of the lice, and he had remained naked the entire night, fighting his cough as the frozen air burned his skin. "Just stay with me…" Kendall repeated himself, rocking James in his arms._

_**That was when the whistles began to blow, and the soldiers started rounding up the prisoners.**_

James had one arm over Kendall's shoulder as he limped along with the group. Each cough shook his body, and Kendall did his best to keep James on his feet. They were falling behind in the crowd, nearing the last few people. If they didn't pick up their speed, they would be killed. Several had fallen in the first mile, and they were all shot. In the second mile, a few more fell, but not as many bullets were used on them. There was still a long way to the next camp, but Kendall insisted that they could make it. The American troops would save them there, and James would be given medicine. They would be free, and they wouldn't have to live in fear.

They continued to trudge alone, wincing each time the freshly fallen snow burned their unprotected feet. James held his thin blanket over his body, breathing heavily as the movement put strain on him. He was weak, and Kendall only had so much strength to get them both moving. One look at James' face kept him going, though. His face was even paler than it was when Kendall first arrived at Flossenburg, and there were deep purple circles under his eyes. His lips were chapped, and there was a faint blue hue to them.

"No more…" James breathed, shaking his head after Kendall stated for the seventh time that the Americans would save them. He coughed, falling away from Kendall. James hit the ground, gripping the sheet tight. Kendall was herded along with the rest of the prisoners, and the distance slowly increased. Everything moved slower, but James was still becoming smaller and smaller as Kendall was pushed ahead. He didn't know what to do, and couldn't believe his friend had fallen. It didn't register with him until he saw a soldier running up to James, his gun cocked and ready. He wanted to scream, and protest, but another soldier pushed the gun away.

"Don't waste bullets! We don't have time," the soldier shouted, pointing to the trail behind them to signify that the American tanks were closing in. "He'll freeze." Hearing this, Kendall finally tore himself out of the group, running past the two soldiers. He was only a yard or so away from James when he heard the gunshot.

There was a sharp burn in his side, and Kendall watched the blood fly out around him. He coughed out his cry of pain, falling to the ground. The snow stung his skin, but he couldn't move. All the shouts from the soldiers were becoming more and more quiet, and Kendall realized that whoever shot him wasn't going to come and make sure he was dead. After a minute, Kendall finally turned his head, seeing the group of prisoners and the soldiers had continued marching. He and James had been left behind.

Blood leaked profusely from Kendall's wound, and he could see the angry red spreading through the white snow. He winced, trying to stop the bleeding with his hand. James was close, and he wanted to get back to him. Kendall tried to push himself up, but his legs refused to cooperate. They were suddenly numb, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't get them to move.

"FUCK!" Kendall screamed, beginning to cry as his legs continued to fail him. He looked back to James, hearing him cough. "I'm coming, Jamie…" He let go of his wound, ignoring the blood soaking his hand as he clawed at the ground, dragging himself forward. Kendall felt tears sliding down his face, but he refused to quit. He bent a few fingernails digging into the frozen ground, but he pulling himself towards James. The snow was beginning to numb his fingers, but Kendall did his best to ignore it. James was too close for him to give up.

It took him a few minutes, but Kendall was within an arms' length of James. He groaned, swinging his arm ahead of him and using the last of his strength to haul himself closer. James coughed again, wishing he could move. Once he had fallen, his body seemed to shut down. He was able to twist his neck enough and see Kendall coming for him, only to be shot down. James even watched as Kendall used all of his strength to crawl back to him. All he wanted was the ability to move, just so he could meet Kendall, and not watch helplessly.

"Kendall," James breathed, feeling Kendall rest his forehead against the top of James' shoulder. Kendall fought against his body's desire to lay down and quit, and his arms shook as he pushed himself into sitting position. His hands reached out to James, stinging as he pulled his friend onto his lap. "Don't…" James was too weak to say anything more, and he could feel himself slipping away. He was sure it was death, but he hoped it was only sleep. Kendall had worked so hard to get to him. He didn't want to die just yet.

James stared up at Kendall as he was held, and he felt his lips curling up into a small smile.

"You're gonna be okay, James. I promise, okay? I promise." Kendall insisted, whimpering when James chuckled. "Stay with me buddy, okay? Stay with me." James coughed, his throat agonized by the dryness. He shook his head, trying his hardest to open his mouth and speak again. His eyes shifted down to look at the hand that lie on the ground, and Kendall didn't fail to notice. He grabbed James' hand, staining it with blood as he squeezed it.

"I think I love you Kendall," James muttered, his eyelids drooping. There was still a small smile on his face, and Kendall held him closer. "I'm pretty sure I love you, okay? I love you…" His voice was quiet, but Kendall heard everything. A few more tears escaped, sliding down Kendall's cheeks and dripping from his chin. James closed his eyes, exhaling as Kendall pressed his lips against his forehead.

* * *

><p><strong>Snow<strong> began to fall again, and as the American soldiers marched along, they discovered dozens of frozen bodies. It didn't take long for the dead to freeze, and the Americans couldn't tell what had killed them first: blood loss, or the weather. As they passed the bodies, the soldiers assigned to help gather the dead were left to pack everyone onto the truck. They mourned silently for the strangers, feeling pity for the poor souls. No one knew what had gone on in the concentration camps, and not even the soldiers could fully comprehend what they'd just seen.

For a mile, the Americans found nothing but the faint outlines of footsteps. Some were from boots, and some were bare feet. They knew they were approaching another camp, and wondered how horrific the sights there would be.

"Hey, there's another set of bodies ahead! Get the stretchers ready!" an officer suddenly shouted, alerting two soldiers. The men exchanged glances, knowing it was their turn to pick up the dead. They ran ahead, panting once they reached the two bodies. Their tanks were still a distance away, and the two young men observed the bodies. One was skinnier than the other, with dark brown hair. His lips were a darker shade of blue, and the bags under his eyes gave away how sick he had been. The other body was holding the first, his cheek resting on top of the others' forehead. His hair was blonde, and there was blood all over his side. Both of them had a thin layer of snow coating them, and the American soldiers sadly moved them out of the tanks' way.

The truck for the bodies stopped in front of them, and the soldiers delicately placed the bodies on stretchers.

"What do you think? Brothers?" one of the soldiers asked the other as they set the bodies down in the truck. He ran a hand through his short black hair, looking to his partner. "Logan?" Snapping his partner out of his thoughts, the first soldier glanced back at the bodies.

"I think… I think they were like us, Carlos," Logan answered, watching as the truck started moving forward. Carlos bit his lip, knowing what his friend meant. "I think they were in love." Logan licked his lips, and the two boys shared a moment of silence for the dead.

Carlos stared at Logan with a love that had to be kept secret, and the two marched forward.


	2. Speak

**A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a while, but I finally have a couple ideas for Boys Don't Cry. This update is a Jagan update, and I'm thinking the next is going to be another Kames. A little warning, this is not all in first person, but the parts that are, come from from Logan's point of view. Also, it's kind of a trigger, I guess? I mean, if you've seen the movie Speak, you'll know this story is really heavy with the theme of rape. That being said, if you'd rather not read this story, I totally understand. On a different note, I will have a playlist and graphic posted on my writing blog, which you can find the link to on my profile. I hope you enjoy!**

**Side note: The formatting was REALLY screwing with me, so please tell me if there's something missing in the story. (I hate formatting more than anything! Do do doo!) Oh! And to that reviewer that I can't reply to personally, I'm really flattered that you loved the story! However, I would prefer you didn't tweet anything I write to the guys. Thanks!**

* * *

><p><span>July<span> 18th

_Football tryouts during the summer suck. I'm tired, hot, sweaty, and gross... I just want to go home. Why did I promise Dad I'd at least try? I don't want to play football. I'm barely able to play hockey most days. He says it'll build muscle, build character. Well fuck that, football just isn't my sport. Christ, you'd think it'd be enough that I'm being promoted a couple levels in my science courses. I try to keep my mind on other things while the coach blows his whistle at all of us. I'm actually really good at that, letting myself get lost in my head, somewhere far away, while my body goes through this ridiculous training. I'm ready to give up on the entire thing and just tell Dad I can't do it._

_I know I won't give up though - not because I'm not a quitter, no, that's Kendall. I won't give up because Dad will give me so much crap if I do. He won't exactly yell, but damned if he doesn't make me feel like shit over it. Hell, not my fault I'm better with my grades than he was. Not my fault I prefer hockey over his precious football. Whatever though, the whistle's finally stopped._

_Coach Hale calls me over and tells me to help him put up the jerseys and equipment we used today. That means I get to carry all the cones and helmets and flags back to the gym, then put all the jerseys in the big hamper outside the locker room while he locks his office and goes home. I've been dreading the day he called on me to be the one who got stuck behind for another hour shoving all of this crap away, but I knew it was coming. I try to hurry, because I want to take a shower before I head home, and I'd like to head home before the sun goes down._

_As always when I'm at practice, my mind slips away from me while I'm dragging the bulky sack of gear back to the gym. The equipment storage is open, and once I get the bag in there, Coach Hale locks the door and gives me a wave._

_"Eat a big meal, Mitchell. You've barely got any meat on those bones," he commands. I nod, clearing my throat._

_"Yes, sir," I've learned to speak loud and clear for Coach Hale, otherwise he'll keep hounding you with the same question. I was always loud when I needed to be, but I think my volume increased over the course of two weeks. With that, the coach leaves, and I head back outside to get the jerseys. There's someone on the field, stacking up the jerseys in a neat pile. I narrow my eyes to get a better look, and I'm surprised, because I don't expect Mason Bryer to still be here. He's the best player on the team, and according to Coach Hale, he has been since he was a Freshman. He's going into his Senior year, and since football training started, he's been helping the coach. Mason claims he can weed out the weak, and help the coach decide who has the chops to be on the team and who doesn't. Mostly, I think he's just an egocentric tool. "Hey, Mason, what are you doing out here? I thought you went home." Mason shrugs, handing me the stack of jerseys._

_"Thought I'd do you a favor and get these jerseys sorted. Now you only have to make the one trip," he says. I take the pile of clothing, staring down at it before looking back up at him._

_"Thanks, I owe you one," I reply._

_"What are you gonna do after you put the clothes up? Go home?" Mason asks. I don't think anything of it, and looking back on it, I wonder if things would've turned out different had I done so._

_"Hit the showers, before anyone can come and catch me naked. I'm pretty sure the rest of the guys are already gone. Then... yeah, heading home," I answer. I shrug when Mason nods and turns away, heading back up to the gym. I toss the jerseys in the hamper, already pulling my shirt over my head as I enter the locker room. No one's there, just like I expect, and I strip out of the rest of my sweat-soaked clothes. Grabbing a towel, I take my normal clothes from the locker I was assigned for the summer, and I head to the shower._

Nov. 2nd

_High __school __was __supposed __to __be __great__._

The pep rally was full, except for those who opted out to sit in the cafeteria. Cheerleaders performed cartwheels and somersaults, earning cheers from the crowd. Logan wanted to go back to class. He didn't like being trapped in the swarms of people; he found it hard to breathe. People were blocking his exits. Everyone was shouting, laughing, talking... and here he was, unable to make a sound. Logan tried to open his mouth, maybe cheer like the rest of the crowd, but his lips felt glued together. They hadn't parted in so long, maybe they _were_ stuck now.

Searching the stands, Logan's hands fidgeted when he spotted two familiar faces. Kendall and Carlos, his former best friends, were at the bottom of the stands, goofing around with some of the cheerleaders. They always had some amount of school spirit, choosing to show it at any random time. Neither of them noticed Logan, alone in his corner of the stands. In fact, no one seemed to notice him. His gray sweater, faded black sweat pants, tattered gloves, and pale face seemed to blend into the blank walls.

_Both __of __my __friends __won__'__t __even __look __at __me __anymore__. __It__'__s __November__, __and __I __have __no __friends__._

The gym boomed at max volume as the host of the pep rally came running out. Behind him, the football team followed, running to the chairs reserved for them. Logan shifted in his seat. He wondered how all of this even mattered, anyway.

_The Fall semester is great only because of the pep rallies. Apparently, there are none next semester. There are no spirit weeks, no dumb games to pit the classes against each other, and no pep for the sports in the Spring. The school board excuses it by saying there's too much going on in the Spring for everyone to get a pep rally, but in the end, I have to wonder if anyone really cares. It's all mediocre, anyway._

Logan sat down when everyone else began standing up. Now hidden from view, and he brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs to keep himself together. At the very least, he could stay out of sight. Instead, he was the one looking, and when he spotted the tall, muscled, Senior dancing with the cheerleaders, Logan was ready to get up and leave the gym. His skin burned. His eyes squeezed shut. As tightly as he held himself together, he still felt like he was being ripped apart. His chest tightened and for a minute, he forgot how to breathe. Finally, he gasped. He stood up, pushing past all of the other people. His feet carried him to the gym floor, and he kept his head down as he fled the building.

Still, no one appeared to notice.

Nov. 23nd

Lunch remained Logan's least favorite part of the day. After the first week of school, the table he'd claimed for himself was gone, and he took to eating outside under the stairs. Kendall and Carlos didn't have his lunch period, but it wouldn't have made a difference.

Near the end of summer, Logan's ex-friends gave up on him. He didn't necessarily blame them. It wasn't their fault he was frustrating. They hadn't done anything to deserve the silence he gave them. In the beginning, when they first noticed something was wrong, they tried prying. They asked questions, but never received answers. Then it started to anger them. Both boys gave Logan a week of space, not messaging him or stopping by the house. When that failed to work, they slowly began drifting out of his life. It took almost five months for them to finally quit trying to talk to him, or get him to talk back.

_I wonder if I should admire them for sticking it out that long, or hate them for quitting so soon._

Picking up his sandwich, Logan took a small bite, not feeling all that hungry. Over the past few months, his appetite decreased until he couldn't keep down anything. Since he threw up most of what he did eat when it came to bigger meals, he stuck to light things, like soup and sandwiches. Even then, he had to force the food down.

Licking his lips, Logan looked around at the students sitting at the tables outside. He wondered what it would be like to join them, but if he were to sit at a table, he would have to introduce himself and ask if he could take the seat. That required speaking. He couldn't do that now.

When the bell rang and people began leaving for class, Logan clutched his book bag, waiting for the cluster of people to lighten up before going inside. He avoided making any physical contact with anyone as he walked through the halls, wincing whenever someone bumped his arm. Arriving a minute earlier than usual, Logan set his bag down at his desk in the back of the room, fishing out his book. His test scores were above average and he'd taken certain courses during the summer, so he was already in a Junior class. Science was his field, and this time last year, Logan thought he would be happier than he'd ever been in a Physics class.

_Kendall __and __Carlos __would __be __teasing __me __if __they __had __seen __the __syllabus__._

His stomach soured though, and he immediately wished he was home when he saw who was walking through the door. Coming in first was his lab partner, James Diamond, a regular Junior with average intelligence and popularity from being on both the football and hockey teams. Behind him though, was the Senior that Logan had spent his time avoiding. Gulping, Logan busied himself, pulling out his notebook for the class and a highlighter. He pretended to highlight important passages, flipping back to the first day's notes just to have more to stay occupied.

"Hey, Logan! Nice to get some sunshine today, yeah? I was getting pretty tired of the rain," James greeted him, enthusiastic as ever. Logan licked his lips, eyes darting up when he nodded.

_I hate that I can feel him looking at me. It's like he's fucking... Cyclops, and he's trying to kill me with those stupid laser eyes. I wish he'd stop staring. I wish someone would call him out on it. "Why are you looking at Logan like that, weirdo?" Yeah, something like that._

The classroom slowly filled up with people that were only strangers to Logan. He peered around, thinking perhaps someone he knew would suddenly be there, but he knew better.

"This kid's your lab partner?"

_Mason Bryer. I repeat his name all the time, but that doesn't make him any less of a monster and any more of a human. I see him chasing around so many girls- no one would ever think... I hate him, I hate him so much. I HATE HIM. I want to tell him to burn in Hell, but I can already feel myself throwing up once I open my mouth. His cologne is too strong; I can smell it from where I'm sitting. I need to throw up._

James grinned, nodding as he ruffled Logan's hair.

"I know he's just a Freshman, but he's the smartest kid I've ever met. Hey, if it weren't for this kid, I'd be failing. Isn't that right, Loges?" James asked, his smile still wide, stretching across his face. Again, Logan licked his lips, his eyes darting to Mason before meeting James' gaze, nodding obediently. Mason's eyes were like a vulture staring at an animal that was seconds from death. He wasn't even going to wait for Logan to completely die.

"Well then, I owe you a huge thanks for keeping this idiot from failing and getting kicked off the team!" Mason exclaimed, placing his hand on Logan's shoulder and squeezing. If Logan had been able to make a sound, he would've screamed. He would've whimpered. He would've ordered Mason to get away from him.

He would've done something.

But Logan kept his head down, his eye twitching and fist curling around the highlighter as Mason gave his back a small rub before walking away. The bell rang just another minute later, and no one said anything to Logan. Everyone was talking to their friends, or copying down the assignment on the board, or even just talking to the teacher before she officially started class. No one looked back, because there was nothing to see in the dark corner. No one would ever guess that the quiet, easy-to-miss Freshman was begging for help.

Jan. 17th

Logan hated the bus more than he hated actually going to school. While he and other students waited, the couples that Logan rode home with spent the time making out. He was left to stand awkwardly to the side, looking in any direction but theirs. Kicking the rocks by his feet, Logan strained his ears, hoping to hear the distant rumble of the bus. There was nothing but silence, however. Silence, and then suddenly, the sound of gravel crunching beneath someone's feet. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan's expression changed from annoyed to surprised. James Diamond was walking towards him. Upon spotting Logan, James grinned, holding up his hand in a friendly wave.

"Hey! Logan!" James greeted, slapping his hand against the back of Logan's shoulder when he stopped. Logan managed to give him a weak smile before looking around curiously. He knew James had a car, and a nice one at that. Seeing the confusion on Logan's face, James chuckled. "You're wondering what I'm doing waiting for the bus?" Clutching the strap of his bag a little tighter, Logan nodded. "I fucked up my car, or, well... Mostly I fucked up the fence at my house. It's a long story, and I come out stupid in it. Basically, I went to a party, party things happened, three AM happened, and then a very risky drive home ended the night. So as punishment, I'm riding the bus home for the next couple weeks. The folks think that's the worst thing in the world." James scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Licking his lips, Logan gulped, trying to think of what he could say. It was already January. School started in September, and in the months that Logan had been seated and partnered with James, he hadn't said one word to him. At times, Logan didn't know whether to think James was too self-absorbed to notice, or if he was too polite to call Logan out on it. After all, everyone in the school had seen Logan getting picked on at one point or another for his silence.

"Do you mind if I sit with you? I mean, all of these other lovely people seem to have their bus-buddy... Unless you already sit with someone?" James questioned, his smile never once fading. Logan felt his mouth go dry, just as he was about to force out a word. It had been so long since he said anything, he was scared he was going to forget how to speak. With his throat dry, Logan coughed and nodded, shrugging. "Yes... I can sit with you? Or yes, you sit with someone?" Still coughing, Logan looked to James and held up a finger. "Alright, cool! Thanks man, I appreciate it."

As Logan nodded, he could hear the bus turning the corner and approaching. When it stopped and the doors opened, Logan and James were the first to get on. Logan took the empty seat directly behind the bus driver, and James sat beside him, setting his drawstring backpack on the floor. Sighing heavily, Logan stared at the buildings they passed, tracing shapes on the smudged window. James, sitting quietly for the first few minutes, began fidgeting, and Logan stopped what he was doing, glancing over at the older boy.

"You give everyone the silent treatment, or did I do something, or..?" James asked, scratching the back of his head. Logan's eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of what to do. Then James started snickering. "Dude, chill, it's okay. I was just asking. I mean, I've known you for a semester and I haven't heard your voice once. I was just wondering if it's only me you don't talk to."

Holding his book bag against his chest, Logan shrugged, looking to the floor, then back at the window. He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling before facing James again. This time, when he opened his mouth, Logan thought he would actually get a word out. He thought that, maybe this time, he would succeed. His mouth hung open wordlessly though, no sound coming out at all. One eyebrow cocked, James tilted his head to the side.

"_Can_ you speak? Or are you like, uh, Dozer, in that movie Mask? Cause if you can't really speak, man, I don't want you to try for me or anything," James insisted, holding up his hands. Logan didn't think about it as his lips curled up into a smile. He didn't have to force it this time. Seeing that he had something to say, James pulled out his phone. "Why don't you text it to me? You can do that, right?" For a few moments, Logan didn't know how to respond. He stared dumbly at the phone before thinking to take his own out of his pocket. "The number's 218-565-4326." Punching in the numbers, Logan saved the contact. He opened a new message and began typing. Just a minute later, James looked down at his phone as it vibrated.

**I like that movie. Mask.**

"Yeah?" James looked to Logan, seeing him nod. "It's a good movie. When did you see it?" Logan already had a new message opened, and was typing the answer.

**When I was eight. My grandpa was watching it on TV, and asked if I wanted to join him. So I did.**

"That's cool. I saw it when I was ten, at my uncle's house. He had like, a million movies on VHS, and he told me I could watch whatever I wanted," James replied. The bus came to a halt, and a few kids from the back stood up, walking towards the front. James felt his phone vibrate again.

**What stop are you?**

"The last one, actually. I don't live too close to the school at all," James admitted, leaning back in his seat. Logan perked up just a bit, grinning. "What? You're the last stop too?" Nodding, Logan peered down at his phone, hitting the buttons as fast as he could.

**I'm at 612 Aldair Drive.**

"Hey! I live a few houses down, then! How early does this bus come to take us to school?" James asked.

**7:00, exactly. Never really misses a minute in the morning, but you never know when it's coming in the afternoon.**

James groaned, shutting his eyes. Logan smiled as though he were laughing, and he wished for once he could make a sound. He wished that his throat and mouth wouldn't run dry when his lips parted. It was becoming a natural reaction now, and he feared it was turning permanent. Logan couldn't tell if it was his fear keeping him mute, or if it was the fact that he'd been quiet for so long. Right now, he was blaming both.

For the remainder of the ride, James was mostly quiet. He'd ask occasional questions, like how long Logan had been riding this bus, and how long he lived on Aldair Drive, but there wasn't much more talk. When the bus stopped at their street, James and Logan were the only two left. They exited, walking in silence together down the sidewalk. Pausing in front of his house, Logan looked to James, his mouth opening in one more attempt to speak. This time, neither his mouth nor his throat ran dry. He pursed his lips, however, shaking his head. He had nothing to say, and what he wanted to say would more than likely send James in the opposite direction. Logan didn't want that; he was lonely, and James talking to him the way he did was something Logan hadn't realized he wanted.

"I'll see you tomorrow, bud! Later," James gave Logan a small wave, walking away as Logan opened the gate around his yard and stepped inside. He peeked through the curtains on the windows, watching James head towards his house.

_I like him. He's... giving me a chance._

There was a small smile on his face, and it didn't fade until he was back in his room, the door locked behind him.

* * *

><p>No one said a word in the Mitchell house. Logan's father, Sam, ate his TV dinner in the living room, watching ESPN. His mother, Janet, busied herself with dish-washing, listening to whatever was on the radio as she cleaned. Hesitantly, Logan took the first few steps down to the foyer, pausing when the wood creaked. Inhaling, holding his breath, Logan carried his half-empty glass of milk and half-eaten sandwich into the kitchen. As silently as he could, he wrapped the sandwich in a napkin, placing it in the refrigerator. He set the dishes on the counter, feeling unnoticed by Janet. Lips pursed, Logan turned away, not thinking as he walked into the living room. Whenever Sam watched the sports channel, Logan tried to avoid him. He'd made the mistake of leaving his book bag on the loveseat, however, and now he had no other choice.<p>

Blowing out a gust of air, Logan walked into the living room, keeping his eyes on anything but his father. He picked up his book bag, his hands already beginning to shake as he looked through to make sure nothing had fallen out. His knees were weak and he could feel his father's gaze on him. Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Logan lifted his bag, wishing his father would go back to watching TV. Just as he reached the stairs, and started to think he'd made it out alright, Sam cleared his throat. Logan's eyes shut, and he gripped the railing tight.

"Hey Logan, how's school?" Sam asked, clicking the mute button on the remote. Logan slowly turned around, shrugging when he faced his dad. "You doing alright? Everything with Kendall and Carlos okay?" Blinking a few more times than necessary, Logan nodded. This was different. Usually Sam would point something out about the football players on the TV, and ask if that's why Logan had quit practice and broken his promise. Sam would always say it didn't matter to him, but that wasn't what Logan heard in his tone. Logan heard disappointment; he knew it was there.

Sam opened his mouth to ask more questions, but when he looked at Logan, studying him for a few seconds, he shook his head and waved Logan off. The volume of the TV was suddenly back, and Logan stood at the base of the stairs for a minute before returning to his room and locking the door. Between his mother's music and the booming voices of the sportscasters, Logan could hardly hear his own thoughts.

_I don't want to hear them anyway. Dad can't even talk to me anymore. I won't talk back. I stopped talking, and now Mom and Dad never talk to each other, and everything's falling apart, and it's all my fucking fault._

Clenching his fists, Logan opened his mouth, staring at his reflection in the mirror on the door. He lost twenty pounds since the beginning of July, and when he lifted his shirt, he counted a couple ribs. His skin was a ghastly white, much lighter than it had been when he spent the afternoons training with the other boys on the fields. Leaning forward, Logan took a closer look at his face, his fingers pressing into his sallow cheeks. There were dark bags under his black eyes, and the stress lines on his forehead wouldn't go away unless he smiled, which he couldn't bring himself to do for more than a second.

Trying to clear his head, Logan grabbed clothes from his dresser and headed to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, checking twice to make sure the knob wouldn't turn. His turned on the shower, and he slowly pulled off his clothes, stepping into the hot water. Keeping his eyes closed, he let the water hit his face, and for a while he stood in the shower doing absolutely nothing. Absentmindedly, he scrubbed shampoo in and out of his hair, and ran a soapy washcloth over his body. His thoughts escaped him as they normally would, and when his focus returned to him, he was sitting on the floor of the tub. The water, freezing now, pelted him, and he shuddered.

_The water couldn't get any colder. I'll get sick if I stay, but I don't wanna move. All I can do is let the water hit me. All I could do then was let the water hit me, and watch it carry the blood to the drain. I watched that blood turn pink, and disappear within minutes. I just sat there, bleeding, crying._

Shaking his head, Logan turned the water off, stepping out of the shower. He dried himself, pulling on boxers, then sweats, followed by a tank top and sweater. It wasn't the coldest it could get in Minnesota yet, but Logan always dressed in as much clothing as he could wear without suffering a heat stroke. His footsteps soft, almost completely silent, Logan headed back to his room, crawling into bed. He held the covers over him, his back pressed to the wall.

Jan. 18th

"Hey, Logan!" James called out, jogging up to the shorter brunette at the bus stop. Logan waved, taking his phone from his pocket. Yawning, James cracked his knuckles, stretching as they waited for the approaching bus.

**I thought you were going to miss on the very first day.**

Reading the message, James laughed and nodded.

"So did I, Logan," he admitted. The bus came to a stop and the doors opened, allowing James and Logan on. This time, James chose the seats, and led Logan to the very back of the bus. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to be good at algebra, would you?" Biting his lip, James opened a folder from his bag, pulling out a sheet of paper. "I suck so bad at it- I just figured- I mean you seem like a really smart kid-" Logan nodded in understanding, taking the paper from James' hands. He read through the first few problems, pulling a pencil from his book bag and writing little notes on the side. Handing the paper back to James, Logan quickly texted.

**I see your problem. You don't totally understand how polynomials work. I wrote down a few tricks I learned. I think they really help.**

James looked over the paper, studying the notes. Logan could see something clicking for James when his eyes widened and his lips twitched up. He felt himself smiling, and he turned to look out the window, leaving James to finish the homework.

Jan. 19th

"You know something? It feels great not having to stay after school for practice. I have so much more time now," James sighed happily, leaning back in his seat. Logan smiled and nodded, listening to James go on about how being on the football and hockey teams took a lot out of him during the first semester. His smile faded though when his thoughts began slipping back to the bad parts of the day.

Usually, days passed without much significance. Before James started talking to him, and accepting that he didn't really speak, the days blurred together for Logan. He had a habit of losing track of time, and of where and when he was. Thankfully though, James seemed to be serving as a catalyst to stopping the time lapses. Logan remembered how easy it was to become friends with Carlos and Kendall, and befriending James was almost exactly the same. After the initial meeting, everything came easy, and James already labeled Logan a friend.

"Hey Loges? You okay?" James asked, watching the smaller boy. Logan shrugged, then nodded, but James wasn't buying it. "Seriously, dude. What's up?" Biting his lip, Logan didn't move for a few seconds. James waited patiently, however, and when the bus stopped for the second time, Logan pulled his English report out of his book bag. Holding it out for James to see, he sighed when the paper was taken from his hands. Ms. Linwood had failed him for his inability to read the report in front of the class. She gave him nearly perfect scores for the written work, citations, note cards, and number of sources, but the zero on the oral presentation brought him down to just barely passing. "Well that's bullshit dude. Why didn't you tell her you- Oh, fuck, right. Shit, I'm sorry, Logan. Is this your first C?"

Taking the paper, Logan shoved it into his bag and picked up his phone.

**I don't care if it's a C. That's not the problem. She wants to talk to my parents about me not speaking.**

After reading the message, James glanced at Logan, his eyes holding the question on his mind. Logan knew what it was, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

**They don't know. If they have noticed, they haven't done anything.**

"When was the last time you said a word to either of them?" James questioned, his voice a lot softer than it had been a minute ago. Instantly, Logan was typing the answer. He remembered the date. He remembered everything about it, as much as he wished he didn't.

**July 7th. I talked last year during school, a lot. Do you know Kendall Knight and Carlos Garcia?**

Licking his lips, James frowned after reading the message. He looked to Logan, almost unable to believe that the kid in front of him hadn't talked for seven months. He read the message again, thinking about the two names. Both of them were familiar, but James could only remember one face.

"Kendall. I had detention with him once," James said.

**He used to be my best friend. Him and Carlos. I stopped talking, and after a while, they gave up. I couldn't even bring myself to text them. It used to be really bad. I miss them.**

James didn't say a word after reading the message. He didn't know what to say. All he could do was place a hand on Logan's shoulder and give him a comforting squeeze.

Jan. 27th

After the usual hour of riding the bus, James and Logan reached their stop. As they walked off the bus, James had an extra bounce in his step. He was getting his car back, and he was thrilled that he wouldn't need to wake up so early anymore. Logan kept a smile on for him, but he wasn't enthused over the idea of going back to being alone on the bus. He waved goodbye when he reached his house, but instead of going straight to his room, Logan headed into the basement. Flicking on the lights, he stared around, amazed by how much dust had collected over the months.

Before high school, when Kendall and Carlos would spend the night, the boys wasted their time here. There was an old, tattered couch pushed against the wall where one of them would sleep, and then there was the shaggy rug that covered half of the floor where the other two would crash. A small TV rested on empty milk crates, and Logan remembered how they would be up until the morning watching bad scary movies or comedies. The memory of when Carlos stole his older brother's Playboy magazines and brought them over suddenly popped into Logan's mind, and he thought about how weirded out he had been.

That had always been Logan, though. He was the odd one out. While Kendall and Carlos were excited to grow up, get the girls, and wreak havoc in the high school, Logan looked forward to advancing in his studies. All he wanted was to be successful, get into the college of his choice, and achieve his dream of being a doctor. So much of his time had gone into the dream, he didn't think much of anything else. If it weren't for Kendall and Carlos giving him breaks with hockey and other things that strengthened their bond, Logan realized he might've always been friendless. Eyes narrowed, fists clenched, Logan stormed out of the basement, slamming the door shut behind him as he ran to his room. He lied on his bed, his eyes remaining closed until he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Opening the text, Logan read it over three times before grinning.

**Since I've got the car now, do you want a ride to school? I figure, why should you ride the bus when I've got a car and you're literally right down the street?**

James would never really know it, but his text kept Logan from taking a step back in the progress he'd made in the last month.

July 18th

_Cool water hits my skin, and I scrub away the sweat. The bar soap the school provides doesn't have a scent, but it gets rid of the body odor smell, so I consider it effective. I'm rinsing the soap off of my arms, thinking about what I'll do tonight. Kendall and Carlos wanted to hang out tomorrow, and I planned on buying a couple new video games for us to waste our time on. I've had enough of being outside in the heat. Reaching out to turn off the water, my eyes fly open when a hand grabs my wrist, gripping it tight. I look up and see Mason, and immediately I look around for my towel. He squeezes my wrist tighter though, twisting it until I flinch._

_"You know, I've noticed how your eyes wander a little when you're in the showers with the other guys," Mason announces. It sounds like he's accusing me of something, and at first, I don't know what to think. I just want to get my towel and wrap up._

_"Dude, this is really weird. I'm gonna get a-"_

_"Shut it, kid!" Mason twists my arm again, and this time I yelp. "I've had my eye on you. I just got this feeling that you might not have what it takes to be on the team. I can't have that, you know?" Mason's breath is hot on my ear. He's closer than I want him to be._

_"Seriously, Mason, this isn't cool! I don't know-"_

_I cry out in pain when Mason pushes me to the ground, pinning me there with his knee digging into my back. He still has my arm twisted behind me, and my cheek is pressed against the wet tile floor. I don't have a clue what he's doing, but there's a lot of bad theories going through my head. I want to ask why, and I want to tell him to knock it off, but there's too much to say all at once, and I can't seem to make a sound._

_"No one can hear you, Mitchell. There's no one here," Mason sounds like he's trying to assure me - like I'm the one scared of getting caught._

_I've been beaten up before. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's going somewhere else in my head, while my body endures the beating. Before I know it, the guys are done hitting me and I'm all alone. I can go home and clean up the cuts, and after I tell Kendall and Carlos, they beat up the guys that beat me up. Then the cuts heal and it's all over. But I've never been naked. I've never been attacked in a shower. I don't know what to do, and Mason's knee digs harder into my back._

_Mason grabs my other arm and twists it until I scream._

_"STOP! STOP! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"_

_His hand is big enough, strong enough, to hold both my wrists together. I can hear the sound of his sweatpants being pushed down, and I struggle harder against his grip. His free hand is suddenly on the back of my head, keeping it pressed to the floor. The water is getting in my nose and mouth, and I cough when I try to shout again. He's stronger than I could ever hope to be and I can feel him prodding at me. My eyes widen - what do I do? I can't get away from him, and I'm not even trying anymore._

_I open my mouth, and a scream that I've never screamed before echoes off the walls of the locker room. After that, I don't make a sound. I listen to Mason grunting over me, I wince every time his skin is pressed against mine. My eyes dart around, staring at the perfectly white tiles and how neatly they're aligned. Water is all over the floor, and I can sort of see my reflection. I almost don't notice, but I'm crying. My nose and throat are burning and my vision is starting to blur from all the tears. I'm not making a sound though._

_The only sound in the locker room is the running water, and Mason's grunts. No one can hear any of it. No one can hear me weeping, and no one can hear how much it hurts._

Feb. 14th

"I'm curious, Loges. Can you humor me on this?" James demanded, setting his water bottle down. Logan shrugged, taking a second bite of his sandwich. In the past three weeks, he had started finishing sandwiches, and could now manage half of an apple to go with it. He rarely threw up anymore, and a lot of color came back to his face. Since James had started driving him to school, and the boys realized they had the same lunch period, they sat together. Logan asked if James had other friends he sat with, but James surprised him by telling him that he didn't really have friends.

"_I like being on my own. I mean, I'm friendly with a lot of people- everyone, I guess- but I haven't really had a friend until you. You're cool though, I like you. Actually, I spent my lunch period in the choir room, but they need it now for that advance group, so here I am!"_

Taking Logan's arm, James pulled him closer, pointing across the field to a group of girls walking towards the tennis court. Staring up at James curiously, Logan shrugged, not seeing what he was getting at.

"You're not interested in any of them?" James demanded. Logan stole another glance at the girls before shaking his head. "Are you kidding? None of the girls here have your eye? Not one?" Again, Logan shook his head. "It's Valentine's Day, dude. Have you never enjoyed the day of love?"

Pausing, Logan thought about the question. A few times, girls had given him little paper hearts with affectionate messages, but most cards he received were given out to everyone else as well. He himself had never given out a card, nor did he recall ever feeling the need to. There were no girls that interested him. Logan figured he just wasn't the type to care about love and sex. Shrugging, Logan shook his head, frowning when James laughed.

"Alright then dude, I'm gonna find you a notch for your belt," James insisted. Logan's eyes widened when James stood up, and he didn't even think about it when he threw his head back and laughed.

"No!" Logan shouted, the laughter louder than his cry. Freezing, James stared at Logan in amazement. It took Logan a second to realize why James was giving him that look, but when it sunk in, his jaw dropped. He licked his lips, opening his mouth to find that there was no dryness now. James returned to his seat beside Logan, his eyes eager.

"Did you just talk, Logie? That's like, the first time I've _ever_ heard your voice!" James exclaimed. Logan laughed again, his smile stretching across his face. He spoke, he said something, and he wanted to say more. He didn't believe that he said anything for a minute, but when it sunk in, he couldn't stop laughing. This morning, he'd woken up like he did every other morning, and went through the day in silence. Logan had gotten so used to it; he forgot what his own voice sounded like. The laughter felt good, and Logan's lips parted.

"I spoke... I fucking spoke! James!" Logan's eyes crinkled, and his smile remained wide. James chuckled, hitting Logan's back. His voice was nice - nicer than James could've imagined it. Hearing Logan say his name was sweeter than he expected. It was something James didn't even know he wanted until it happened. "I haven't heard myself make a sound in months! Jesus Christ..."

Now that Logan was talking, he didn't want to stop. He was afraid if he stopped, he wouldn't start again, and it would be like he never had this tiny accomplishment to be proud of.

March 25th

State tests for English courses started, and the Freshmen were the first to take theirs. Sophomores were scheduled for regular classes, but Juniors and Seniors didn't have to show up at all. Most of the class had finished both the written and multiple choice parts of the test, and those who hadn't were moved to a different, quiet section of the school. The bell rang for lunch, and for the first period, it was mostly Freshmen, with a handful of Sophomores.

Logan sat alone at the table he usually shared with James, watching as his classmates enjoyed the extended lunch break. He finished his first sandwich quickly, hungrily getting through the second one. Instead of a light tuna sandwich, Logan had made himself a sandwich packed with a couple different meats, and even added lettuce and tomato. He grinned with the knowledge that he would be able to keep this down. After he started talking, even if it was only to James, Logan found his appetite was coming back. Crumpling the plastic that wrapped up the sandwich, Logan tossed it into the nearby trashcan.

"Hey," a voice greeted nervously. Logan's head snapped up, and he stared for a few moments at the boys in front of him. Kendall gave him a small smile, setting his lunch tray on the table. "Do you mind if we sit here?" Carlos stood beside him, four corn-dogs in his hands.

"Y-yeah! Go for it, no one else is sitting there," Logan answered. Kendall's smile was exactly how Logan remembered it, and when he and Carlos sat down, Logan cleared his throat. "How do you guys think you did on the test?" Exchanging glances, Kendall and Carlos wondered how to respond. They both knew Logan hadn't been talking, and though they didn't know why, they had always wondered about it. As angry as the boys had been at first when Logan refused to level with them, they didn't think it was right to bring it up now. Instead, they played along, answering Logan's question.

"I guess I did alright. I paid enough attention to Linwood to know maybe... eighty percent of the test," Kendall said, nodding proudly. Carlos laughed and shook his head.

"I copied a couple answers off Hannah Stinson," he revealed, grinning when Logan gave him a disapproving stare. Kendall rolled his eyes and chuckled, pushing Carlos to the side. "What about you, Logan? Did Mr. Big Stufface the test as always?" Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he looked down.

"Maybe, I don't know. It wasn't too hard," he stated. While Kendall and Carlos ate, Logan threw away the rest of his trash. He thought about how they had always been with their grades, and smirked when he remembered what average they needed in order to play sports. "If you guys still wanna join the hockey team, you know you're gonna have to do better, right?" Carlos' eyes bulged, and Kendall cackled at his expression. Logan found himself laughing too, and he knew when he caught Kendall's eye that they had all missed this.

"You're still trying out with us next year?" Kendall asked. Logan pondered the question, and James came to mind instantly.

"Yeah, I think I will," he replied, nodding.

Until the bell for their next class rang, Kendall, Logan, and Carlos spent the lunch period talking just the way they used to.

April 28th

All the Juniors and Seniors that had spent their years together danced and enjoyed the night. Logan watched them from a table in the far corner of the room, his eyes always darting back to James. Several girls had asked him for a dance, and James, being too nice to say no, told Logan he'd be right back each time. There was a reason Logan didn't want to go to prom, and this was it. He didn't know anyone but James, and the fact that James had brought him as a "date" unsettled Logan for a number of reasons. The main reason being that it didn't seem to unsettle him enough in the ways it probably should have.

"_You going, Loges?"_

"_Where?"_

"_To prom!"_

"_James, I'm a Freshman. Unless I get a Junior or Senior date, I can't."_

"_I'll be your date then."_

_Logan's eyebrows rose and he scoffed._

"_Isn't that a little... gay?"_

_James shrugged and leaned forward, quickly kissing Logan's cheek before pulling away._

"_So?" _

Not once did Logan think: _I'm not gay_. At least not until several hours after James convinced him to go to prom. Logan couldn't shake off the wonder of why that thought hadn't come first, like it might have with any normal guy. He thought about all the times he'd seen James chasing around girls, and he wondered if he'd missed times where James was flirtatious with boys as well. Mostly he thought of how, deep down, he could feel relief that James had invited him instead of another girl. Gulping, Logan shoved the thoughts away. James was his best friend, and best friends could enjoy prom together. It was only weird if Logan made it weird. Besides, what James said to explain his actions made sense to Logan. He could go with it, and sexuality didn't have to come into question.

"_The way I see it, love is love. Kind of like the hippies during Woodstock, you know? What did they say? Free love? But like, I mean... you can love whoever you want. The way you feel is totally blind. Race doesn't matter, age doesn't matter, and gender definitely doesn't matter. Free love, man."_

Above the room, the lights slowly began to dim, and Logan blinked several times to get his eyes back in focus. James, without any girls around him, approached Logan, holding out his hand. The song had changed from an upbeat pop single to something much slower. Licking his lips, Logan stared at James' hand, one eyebrow cocked.

"I can't go the entire night without dancing with my date, dude. It wouldn't be right!" James stated, his hand still outstretched to Logan. Rolling his eyes, Logan scoffed. Yet when he looked back up at James, and saw his hand was still waiting, he chuckled and stood up. Taking his hand, Logan allowed James to lead him onto the dance-floor with everyone else. Nervously, Logan peered around, seeing some girls were dancing with girls. Their case was different though - they had come together as friends.

_James and I are here as friends._

Logan couldn't reason with himself. He didn't know what he was trying to say anymore. It just _felt_ different with James. Even if no one else could see it, Logan could just feel it. His dance with James was different from the girls dancing with each other. It was more... intimate. Pulling Logan out of his thoughts, James took his hands, placing them on his hips. His own arms took rest on Logan's shoulders, and slowly, their feet followed the rhythm of the song. Staring down at Logan, James smiled, his eyes not once flickering to anyone else. The shorter brunette had his full attention.

"Are you having fun, Logan?" James asked, already knowing the answer.

"This is taking some getting used to, but I guess," he said, laughing when James stopped to twirl him around. "Wow, that was incredibly gay, this is incredibly gay." James chuckled and shrugged, pulling Logan close.

"Well, so are we, right?"

For a moment, Logan couldn't tell if James was joking or not. He didn't know where the line would be drawn and he didn't know where he stood on any of this. His brain was over-analyzing everything - Logan didn't even notice that he was pulling away from James and walking towards the doors. He could hear James calling after him, but he wasn't listening. Logan was trying to figure out what he thought about all of this.

"Dude, Logan! Wait!" James easily caught up to Logan, grabbing his arm and turning him around. Wincing, Logan shut his eyes and gasped, waiting for the feeling of terror to pass. James frowned when he noticed Logan's reaction, and he yanked his hands back, holding them up. "What's wrong? What did I do?" Opening and closing his mouth, Logan choked on his words, sighing in frustration when he couldn't think of what to say. Before James could reach out to him again, Logan stepped back, his hands running through his hair.

"What is this?" Logan demanded, glaring at his feet. When he stole a glance at James, the taller boy wasn't looking back at him. "What are we doing? Are you serious about this or- I'm not- I don't think I- James, I don't know what I'm feeling here. This is... really new to me. I've never even _thought_ about a girl, let alone a guy! I just- This- James, help me out here, what are we doing?"

Lips pursed, James ran a hand through his hair, his eyes shifting away from Logan. Neither boy said anything for a few minutes. While everyone continued to dance and celebrate prom, James and Logan were outside in the halls. Part of Logan wished he hadn't come at all, but the rest of him just wanted answers. He couldn't understand his own feelings, and they were feelings he wasn't even sure he was ready for. There were too many things to think about, too many questions that needed an explanation, and if James didn't give him some kind of clue, Logan didn't know what he'd do. Finally, James sighed heavily and peered up at Logan.

"I like you, Logan. I really like you. I don't know what you're thinking, but if you like me back, then... I don't know. All I can ask is you try to accept it, and be brave, and feel free to want me back," James stated. He tried keeping eye-contact with Logan, but his own hazel eyes kept darting to anything that wasn't the Freshman he'd come to care about. "I don't know what questions you wanna ask me- and I know there's questions, don't bullshit me, you've got your question face on right now- but... I mean, damn it. No one cares that I'm into guys, if you haven't noticed. No one's gonna care if you're into guys, if that's what you're worried about. Yeah, there's the fuckers who won't like it, but fuck them! I haven't let it bother me, and I just... I don't want you to let it bother you. I want you to like me back, that's it."

Silence fell over them again, and Logan fidgeted with his hands. He considered what James said, and although it did give him some level of assurance, there were more problems he had to deal with. Logan still couldn't be touched without flinching, as discreet and unnoticeable as it was. He couldn't handle crowds most of the time, and he couldn't openly talk about what had happened to him last summer. Mason was the only other person who knew about the rape. Logan couldn't tell a single soul. A lot of the time, he couldn't even tell himself.

"Listen, do you wanna just leave? Jacey Rogers- she- she's having a party, we can hang out there. If you want, I mean," James offered, scratching the back of his head. Several different ways of saying no popped into Logan's head, but he ignored them, choosing to nod and walk with James back to his car. Rolling down the windows, Logan rested his arms on the frame, feeling the cool breeze against his face as James drove. Eyes closed, he tried to clear his head, thinking about how nice everything felt instead of how much he felt he needed to sort out.

_I shouldn't be here. I can't be here._

Replaying those thoughts in his head, Logan hesitated when James finally stopped at the party. He remained seated while James hopped out of the car, only looking up when his door was opened for him. James grinned down at Logan, and although he forced a smile in return, Logan wished he could tell James that he wanted to go home. Nothing came out of his mouth though, and he was led into Jacey Rogers' house where dozens of people were already dancing to the booming music Logan could hear from outside.

_I can smell the booze on everyone._

"You want a drink?" James asked. Logan shook his head, his eyes constantly returning to his feet. Pausing, James set down his cup, wrapping an arm around Logan's shoulders. "Do you mind if I drink?" Again, Logan shook his head, but he couldn't bring himself to look at James. The music was giving him a headache, and the people bumping into him made him claustrophobic. Noticing all the small ticks, James frowned, pulling Logan away from everyone and leading him through the house. Together they exited through the back, and James led him down the small hill to the dock by the river. Sitting at the edge of the dock, James swung his legs over the water, waiting for Logan to sit beside him. However, Logan remained standing, his arms folded over his chest. "Dude, what's going on? You're acting... Like how you used to act. What happened?"

Flinching, Logan bit his lip, kicking a rock near his foot. There was too much on his mind for him to tell James all at once. He didn't know where to begin and he still wasn't sure that he even wanted to. Mason had raped him months ago. Logan was talking again, being at home didn't suffocate him anymore, and his life felt like it was finally getting back to normal. Telling James about what happened would make everything bad come back, and all the progress fall from his grasp. Lost in his confused thoughts, Logan didn't come back to reality until he felt something hit his feet. Blinking, he glanced down, seeing James' coat and dress-shirt lying on the dock.

"J-James, what are you-"

"Take a swim with me, Loges," James stated, not bothering to look at Logan. He tugged his belt out of the loops, kicking his pants off and leaving them by his shoes before jumping into the water. Resurfacing, pushing his hair back, James motioned for Logan to join him. "Just give it a try. It helps me clear my head, and- You look like you could use that."

Apprehensive at first, Logan stood still for a long minute before closing his eyes, blowing out a gust of air as he untucked his shirt and began pulling at the buttons. Slipping out of his clothes, he left them in a neat pile on the dock, taking one last deep breath before diving into the lake. The water was cool against his skin, and Logan kept his eyes shut while his body floated. His heart beat against his chest, skipping when he felt James place a hand on his shoulder. As soon as he felt a hand touching him, Logan swore he could feel the drops of water hitting his skin, and the hand gripping him tighter. The memory of the tiles on the shower room floor flashed before his eyes, and Logan gasped, frightfully flapping his arms to stay afloat.

"Whoa! Chill, Logan!" James shouted, his smile fading when Logan coughed, trying to catch his breath. Staring apologetically, Logan swam towards James, following James' gaze and looking to the stars. There wasn't a cloud in the sky tonight, and the moon was almost full. The breeze was warm, easily drying Logan's face. Behind him, James swam closer, his arms slithering around Logan's waist. Resting his chin on Logan's shoulder, James tilted his head, lightly pressing his lips to Logan's neck. "You have really nice hipbones, you know." The moment James' fingertips grazed Logan's hip, he splashed through the water again, swimming back to the dock. Rapidly, Logan grabbed his clothes, yanking them on as James approached him. "Logan, what's wrong? Logan!"

_I'm going home!_

The words were on the tip of Logan's tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to force them out. His eyes begged James to understand, but Logan just wanted to get away. He didn't want James to come any closer to him. Gulping, Logan fled the dock, running through the house to get out to the cars. He sprinted right past James' car, pushing his legs to carry him as fast as they could back to his house. His house was only a couple streets away, and he didn't stop running until he could see his bedroom window. Sides aching, Logan placed his hands on his knees, coughing until he almost threw up. His hair was still wet, and his clothes were damp, but none of the lights were on in his house. He entered quietly, locking the door behind him as he trudged up the stairs to his room. His phone vibrated, but Logan didn't even bother to check it. Instead he popped out the battery, throwing the phone across the room.

Lifting his blanket and wrapping it over his body, Logan curled up on his bed, his eyes squeezed shut.

May 6th

For an entire week, Logan reverted back to mutism. Skipping the first two days after prom, Logan busied himself with getting the schoolwork he missed and trying to catch up on lessons over talking to any of his friends. Kendall and Carlos didn't take much notice on the first day, but James wouldn't leave Logan alone. Logan, however, couldn't even part his lips to make a sound. Instead, he stared at James with the hopes that he would understand. Yet James only proceeded to yell at him outside before Logan could get to the bus stop.

"_I helped you, Logan! I was nice to you when no one else would even give you a chance! Why won't you talk to me? Why are you doing this? Damn it, Logan!"_

Sighing, gripping the sheets tighter in his hands, Logan held his blanket around him as he sat on his bed, backed against the wall. Talking again hadn't beaten anything. Regaining confidence didn't change the fact that Mason Bryer raped him and now he was struggling with his sexuality. The entire week Logan secluded himself, arguing whether or not his relationship with James would've been the same had Mason not attacked him. He wondered if he would've gotten a girlfriend had he stayed on the football team, and he wondered if it even mattered now.

A sudden knock at his door snapped Logan from his thoughts, and he cautiously stood, slowly approaching the door and cracking it open. His mother smiled at him, and his eyes widened when he saw Kendall, Carlos, and James behind her. Opening the door completely, Logan stepped aside to let them in, and the boys walked past Logan as he nodded to his mother. Standing against the door, it shut with a small click and Logan faced his friends.

"Logan, what's going on? You haven't been talking to us- Listen, it was James who brought us here, but Carlos and I, we have stuff to talk to you about too," Kendall began, reaching out and placing his hand on Logan's shoulder. Once he touched Logan, Kendall noticed how the timid brunette flinched, and he frowned as he took his hand back. "I don't want this to happen again - you, not talking. We went almost the whole year not saying a word to each other. Why'd you stop talking?"

Biting his lip, Logan searched around the room for anything to stare at that wasn't his friends. He shrugged, flinching again when Kendall let out a sigh of frustration. When he finally did look at his friends, Logan saw that James was the only one not looking back. James was observing Logan's room, picking up small planet models that were displayed on his desk.

"We're not leaving until you talk, Logan. What do we have to do to get you to say something?" Kendall demanded. Carlos plopped down on Logan's bed, nodding in agreement. Again, all Logan could do was shrug. His eyes kept returning to James, watching as he looked at the things on Logan's desk. Kendall stepped towards him, and Logan's breath caught in his throat as Kendall towered over him. There suddenly wasn't enough air in the room, and Logan's heartbeat picked up. His eyes widened and his hands flew up to his head, shielding himself from the three boys.

"NO! No no no no no!" Logan cried, shrinking against the door. He curled up on the ground, trembling as he rocked back and forth. Shaking his head, Logan's eyes clamped shut and he continued to stammer out the single word. Kendall and Carlos exchanged glances, then turned to James. His eyes were locked on Logan, and in his hands he held a notebook and pen that lied on the desk. Walking past the boys, James knelt down beside Logan, keeping a fair distance between them.

"Logan, no one's gonna hurt you, alright? Logan, are you listening?" James asked, leaning forward just a little. After a long few moments, Logan nodded, taking slow breaths in and out. James held out the pen and notebook to Logan, waiting for him to take the items. "Can you write down answers? Remember how you texted me? Can you just... write it down? You don't have to say anything." Glaring at the notebook, Logan gripped the pen tightly in his hand. He stole peeks at Kendall and Carlos, saving James for last. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, nodding.

Before any of the boys could start asking questions though, Logan began writing.

**I have something to tell you.**

The letters were bold and blocky, as if Logan wanted to make it seem like he were screaming. He held up the notebook so the boys could read, and once they were done, Logan took the notebook back. His hand stiffened when the pen touched the paper, and he cleared his mind, picturing the words in his head. For three minutes, nothing happened. Logan kept picturing the words, but he couldn't make his hand write them out.

"What is it? You can tell us, it's okay," Carlos assured him, moving from the bed to the floor. Logan stared at him, then at Kendall and James. He swallowed thickly, whimpering as the pen glided over the paper, writing his message.

**I was raped.**

The last word was the hardest to write, but Logan powered through it, his breathing becoming uneven again as he held the notebook up. He shut his eyes, waiting for a reaction, but when nothing came, he felt his heartbeat in his head. Logan forced himself to look up at the boys, and when he did, he wasn't sure what to feel. Carlos was staring at him expressionlessly, while Kendall paced the room, clearly trying to calm down. James scared Logan the worst though. His expression was one of disbelief. What would he do if James didn't believe him?

Pausing the rest of his thoughts, Logan focused on how he wanted James to believe him. He cared if Kendall and Carlos believed him, but not as much as he cared about James believing him. Since their friendship started, James made Logan feel protected, and that's what Logan needed now. That's what he wanted.

Logan didn't notice he was crying until he felt the tears hit his hand. Shuddering, he let out a sob, burying his face in his hands. He could feel an arm wrap comfortingly around him, and he recognized it as Carlos. Once the first few tears fell from his eyes, Logan thought he could stop it, but he continued to cry. He lost track of how much time he spent crying, but none of the boys left him. They all stayed in his room with him, not even thinking about leaving him alone to suffer.

May 31st

Silence filled the hallways, with the occasional sound of a locker swinging shut and papers being crumpled and shoved into the trash.

Logan's eyes traveled the walls, scanning over the spots where there had once been posters advertising clubs, and the best assignments completed by students. Some of his papers had been on the walls outside of classrooms, and he smiled when he ran his fingers over the places they had been. The last bell rung, releasing the students for the summer. Mostly all the teachers were gone as well, but Logan stayed behind, walking through the halls to clear his mind.

Pulling out his phone, Logan saw that James still hadn't responded to his text. Telling him that he was going to hang back at the school for a little bit, Logan expected James to try and convince him otherwise so they could get home. Chuckling, he pulled the strap of his book bag up higher, thinking that he'd need to get a new one for next year.

_Maybe I'll be able to say it by then._

His smile fading, Logan walked out of the math hall, jogging down the stairs into the history wing. All the locker doors were opened, and he walked past them with his hand out, shutting every door as he went by them.

For the entire month, Logan hadn't said a word. After he wrote the truth down for Kendall, Carlos, and James to see, he didn't have anything more to say. He didn't know what was right for him to say when there was nothing left for him to talk about. This time, however, none of his friends left him. At times, Kendall or Carlos would get frustrated, but they tried to be as understanding as possible. Under Logan's requests, the boys hadn't said anything to their parents or his parents, but nothing was stopping them from coming up with a way to spread the truth about Mason.

James interrogated him subtly, and once he was sure that Mason had raped Logan, he let it slip to the football team, then the hockey team. After that, it was out of their hands. Everyone was muttering when Mason walked by, and other boys, a few of them Logan recognized from football training, admitted to being harassed in some way by Mason as well. The stories spread quickly, but in the end, Logan knew they were just stories to all the teachers and adults. There was no way to prove what had been done.

Logan thought perhaps the disbelief in him was the reason he couldn't speak anymore.

Breathing in slowly, Logan turned the corner, hoping James was still in the parking lot. He only took one step before he felt hands on him, shoving him into the wall. Hitting his head, Logan winced, his eyes angry before immediately changing to fearful. Mason gripped the collar of his shirt, his fist raised. Logan opened his mouth to scream, but Mason was too quick, slamming his fist into Logan's face. Within seconds, there was blood dripping from Logan's nose, and he gasped for breath, struggling against Mason's hold.

"You fucking told, didn't you? I've seen you hanging out with James- You fucking told him, and he tricked me- You ruined everything for me you stupid little shit!" Mason hissed, his breath hot on Logan's face. Logan's vision blurred as the tears swelled in his eyes, and Mason's hands gripped his arms tightly. He could already feel the bruises forming. Attempting to scream again, nothing but a weak croak left Logan's lips, and Mason scoffed. "There's no one here anymore. No one's gonna hear you, just like last time."

Whimpering, Logan shook his head, squirming under Mason's hold. He whined, trying to scream again. Mason gripped Logan's throat, his fingers pressing into the skin. Gagging, Logan tried breathing, but the air was cut off from his lungs. Panicking, Logan tried punching Mason, but he couldn't hit hard enough.

"Hey! What's going on down there?" the authoritative voice echoed in Logan's ears as his eyes rolled back. He felt himself sliding down the wall, and he could hear the footsteps running towards him. There were more shouts, and Mason ran. Logan could hear the footsteps following after him, but there were more, stopping beside him.

"Logan? Logan!" James' voice brought a small grin to Logan's face. His eyelids were heavy, but he forced them open, and slowly his vision cleared. Helping Logan to his feet, James straightened out his shirt, tilting Logan's chin up to inspect the marks on his throat. "Come on, let's clean you up."

Logan didn't protest as James led him into the restrooms, wetting a few paper towels and wiping the blood from Logan's face. The boys were both quiet, even as they walked out to the car. Once they were outside, Logan froze when he saw the teacher that had saved him from Mason. He was talking to the principal, and Mason's arm was in his hand. The police officer that patrolled the school to make sure students didn't leave campus was walking towards them, and when he spotted James and Logan, he beckoned them to come over. Logan tuned out most of what happened. He retreated to the back of his mind, remembering the last few normal moments of his life. All he could do while James answered the questions directed at Logan, was replay the events leading up to his rape. Mason was just a few feet away from him...

"Hey, Loges?" James pulled Logan back to reality, just before Mason's face could come to mind again. He blinked, looking around frantically to find that he was now in James' car. Logan stared at James, wishing he knew what to say. He wanted to say something, even if there was nothing. "Do you want me to call your parents? Tell them to pick you up?" Logan gulped, his mouth opening and closing.

_I want everything to go back to the way it was before._

"You don't have to talk, it's alright."

_I want to know if you'd still feel the same way about me... Or if I'd feel the same about you._

"I'm just sorry you had to face him again-"

"James?"

Logan's voice was soft, but strong at the same time. He licked his lips once. Twice. Then a third time. James didn't make a sound as he waited for Logan to speak again. He almost wasn't sure he'd spoken a first time, but he still listened.

"I think-" Logan choked on the words he wanted to say. He was finding his voice again; he knew he could get the words out. "I just want to go home."

James held his breath for a second, unsure of whether there was more Logan wanted to say. He could feel that there was something he wasn't being told, but when Logan began fastening his seatbelt, James closed his eyes and shifted in his seat, turning on the car. He glanced at Logan, hoping that he would hear his voice again soon.

_I think I like you a lot._

Logan watched James drive, his lips remaining sealed. He wasn't ready for anything - how he felt, how to deal with the second encounter with Mason, or when he would say anything else again. Though he wanted to tell James how he felt, he knew now wasn't the time. He could feel that more was coming for him to deal with. First, he had to sort everything out for himself. He couldn't tell James how he felt when there was so many other things on his mind. He'd tried that before, and there ended up being so much to say, he couldn't say any of it. Logan didn't want that happening again.

Sitting in silence, Logan rolled down the window, leaning against the door as the wind hit his face. As they passed houses, Logan felt water droplets hit his face from sprinklers on the lawn. The memory of the wet tile floor flashed through his mind, and he frowned, but he kept his eyes closed. He remembered how the blood spread on the tiles like spider webs, and how cold the water was.

Breathing in slowly, Logan reached out, taking James' hand and squeezing.


End file.
